The Daiquiri

So, this is just a short excerpt that I thought of one day while procrastinating on homework. Of course. I'm sort of looking for advice on what to fix, because I know it's not the best thing ever, and advice on where to take this. Thanks!
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She sat alone, the dim lights in the desolate bar casting shadows across her face. She swirled her drink, letting the cheap, red goo that was supposed to be daiquiri mix melt the ice away. It was a virgin drink though; she didn’t show up at a place like this to get wasted. If that was her intention, then she could have easily of gained entrance to the high-class club two blocks down the street, where only the richest scumbags hung out.
The door opened, its joints squeaking with age. The lady didn’t turn to look, but instead continued swirling the excuse for a drink. Out of her peripherals, she saw a husky man sit down a few bar stools away. He ordered a scotch, his voice deep and quiet. The dopey bartender quickly poured the drink and handed it to the man. He didn’t drink it, only stared at the amber liquid.
She stood up, leaving her drink on the bar. Moving to the bathroom, she secured her purse and snuck a quick glance at the man sitting only a few seats away from her. In the same instance, the man looked over at her, and their eyes locked. The woman couldn’t seem to look away, and the man knew he wouldn’t be able to, even if he wanted. The bartender dropped a glass to the floor, causing it to shatter, and the two jumped.